Those Heroin Eyes
by That'sMyFiasco
Summary: A collection of one-shots written for a livejournal claiming community. Each oneshot is based around a song from Anberlin's album 'Never Take Friendship Personal'. Various characters, rated for safety. Chapter Two: Never Take Friendship Personal
1. Sleepless Nights Oblivion

Those Heroin Eyes

a one-shot collection by That'sMyFiasco

This is a collection of one-shots I have written for my claim over at the livejournal community twilightficmix. There, each person claims an album, and then writes a one-shot based upon each song. I've claimed the record "Never Take Friendship Personal", by Anberlin.

Each chapter is a stand-alone piece unless stated otherwise, and will feature and array of characters, themes, genres, and ratings; each will be marked as such, however.

_Disclaimer: _I do not own Twilight saga. Nor do I own the marvelous music of Anberlin, whose greatness I can only aspire to.

* * *

Chapter One: Sleepless Nights Become Bitter Oblivion 

The Song: _Paperthin Hymn_

Characters: Edward and Bella

Set/Spoilers: This is during the 'interim' of _New Moon_

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 755

Rating: Rather general

* * *

_When your only friends are hotel rooms_

_Hands are distant lullabies_

_If I could turn around I would tonight_

The thick curtains that hung in the hotel room were drawn closely, refusing sunlight any entrance. He barely remembered what town he was in- Chicago, Philadelphia, Montreal blending together in a blur of careful tracking and the thoughts of strangers. He hadn't spoken to Carlisle in days- he didn't have to be able to hear his thoughts in order to feel the sadness and disapproval his father felt.

Edward didn't have the heart to tell him that whatever regret he felt now was nothing compared to what _he_ was feeling. What he couldn't escape.

The daylight lasted, and he grew restless, pacing the room and clenching his hands together in an effort to avoid smashing everything within reach. With nothing to focus his attention on, he was going mad, his thoughts turning again and again to what he couldn't bear to consider.

Eventually, the sunny sky was overtaken by thick rainclouds, and he fled the room, fighting to maintain his self-control. He would find her, and she would die.

Revenge was all he had left.

_I thought you said forever_

_Over and over_

_A sleepless night becomes bitter oblivion_

Bella stood by the window, the cold winter air seeping in through the thin glass. The light of the full moon was harsh, the sky clear enough of clouds to let it shine unobstructed.

Sleep didn't come easy anymore. And when it did, the sweet release of night was overtaken by nightmare after nightmare. Daytime was easier- there were _distractions, _things to do, other things to worry about. There was no other choice- it was either pretend to keep it together, or completely fall apart. She wondered if the act of pretending was helping her stay sane.

The nights were the worst. Lying there in the dark, completely alone, with nothing to keep her company except for haunting thoughts and painful memories. Some nights, it was too much- she would stumble out of bed, trembling and cold.

There was nothing to do but wait for the morning to come.

_Who's gonna call on Sunday morning?_

_Who's gonna drive you home?_

_I just want one more chance_

_To put my arms in fragile hands_

He didn't bother with cars, planes. His prey didn't need them, and neither did he. Running was all he had anymore, the feeling of the wind on his face and the ground flying under his feet intoxicating. It cleared his mind, gave him the escape that sometimes he felt he would kill to possess. There were too many things that brought the memories back. Sometimes, he could almost make himself wish that she had been no one, just another someone. He could almost wonder what would have happened it she hadn't tinted every aspect of his life so completely. It would have been that much easier to forget.

Somehow, he continued, night blending into another day that flowed seamlessly into another night. Slowly, he curled further in on himself. Try as he might, he couldn't convince himself that anything mattered anymore.

Time wore on, and he grew desperate. He began to reason with himself, making plans that he wasn't even sure he intended to follow. What if he just went back to check on her, just to make sure she was happy? He wouldn't have to stay- he could make himself leave if she was happy. If she didn't miss him at all.

And even though these kind of thoughts scared him, they at least carried him through the seconds that seemed like minutes, minutes that seemed like hours.

_These thoughts run through my head_

_Over and over_

_Complaints of violins become my only friends_

Occasionally, it would occur to her that she ought to care more.

Ought to care that her friends never talked to her anymore, ought to care that Charlie was driving himself sick with worry for her, ought to care about so many things. But like other traitorous thoughts, she pushed this back, ignoring the stirrings of guilt that always came up when these thoughts crossed her mind. Everything was easier if she just stayed calm and didn't let anything get to her.

So many things had changed. The same few meals were made repeatedly until Charlie wearied of the monotony and ordered out. Emails from Renee sat in her inbox along with all the useless spam, skimmed over on the rare occasion Bella took the time to sign online. Schoolwork itself was a blessed release, something that grabbed her attention and, if not especially interesting, at least gave her somewhere to focus her thoughts.

She didn't listen to music anymore. Quite aware that this couldn't possibly be healthy, she just _didn't care- _after all, if the choice was between music and wonderful numbness, she couldn't help but choose the latter.

After all, she was only human- and always would be.

_I thought you said forever_

_over and over_

_These thoughts run through my head..._

* * *


	2. The Greatest Tragedy

Those Heroin Eyes

a one-shot collection by That'sMyFiasco

Chapter Two: The Greatest Tragedy

The Song: _Never Take Friendship Personal_

Characters: Elizabeth and Edward Masen.

Set/Spoilers: Set in 1918 Chicago- mild spoilers for Edward's life.

Genre: Pretty general, with perhaps some angst.

Word Count: 1040

Rating: General.

A/N: My love to you if you know the book mentioned.

* * *

_When I awoke there was nothing real in this life_

_But dreams are so intoxicating, (intoxicating)_

_When you're doing this alone_

_Once a skeptic, now the critic_

_And you think that you finally found a place of your own._

_Amongst the cold and timid souls_

_Where only failure knows your name_

_Oh oh oh you cry_

_Tell me something more than what you tried_

_The greatest tragedy is not your death_

_But a life without reason, that your life had no purpose_

Elizabeth sat by the fire, a slim, leather-bound novel in her hands. It was unseasonably cool, even for autumn, and her chair was drawn close to the blaze. Twilight had just fallen, but the house was quiet- her husband was still at the office. Several of the law firm's partners had already fallen to the influenza epidemic, and he was forced to work constantly, preparing and executing the wills of the dead and dying. She couldn't help but worry about him, running himself thin and spending so much time around the sick. He merely smiled at her concerns, however, kissing her on the cheek and promising that all would be well- after all, _someone _needed to do it.

Upstairs, she could hear her son moving about, opening and closing drawers and cupboards in a quest for some trivial shirt or book. Elizabeth smiled indulgently, her thoughts straying from the book in front of her. It was a mother's place to worry- and day by day, that worry grew. It was less than a year until his eighteenth birthday, now- less than a year until he would be pulled into a world of hurt and pain by the draft.

As if beckoned below by her thoughts of him, Edward stepped quickly down the stairs, walking into the front sitting room with a quick step. His reddish hair was a tangle of unruly curls, fey green eyes sparkling from a face that still held boyish charm despite its seventeen years.

Smiling at his mother, he walked over to her chair, tugging on the lapels of his jacket. "Mother, I can't get this tie straight. Tie it for me, please?" Elizabeth smiled, and motioned him to stand in front of the fire, chuckling quietly under her breath.

"You'll have to kneel for me- you've grown so tall, I barely recognize you anymore." He gave her one of his quick smiled, moving to his knees on the carpet before her.

The firelight cast strange, warm shadows on his face, and Elizabeth stared, searching desperately for the face of her little boy in this- that of a confident young man. He watched her in turn, the expression on his face turning from absolute trust to one of curiosity. "Mother?" he said warily, smiling up at her when the sad look left her eyes. She placed two fingers under his chin, tilting up his face to expose his white throat.

Elizabeth knotted the black silk deftly, fingers slipping into a familiar dance. Edward was watching her, and as she worked she smiled down at him. "So? Where do you have plans tonight that obligate such a fine manner of dress?"

He rolled his eyes slightly, but answered quickly. "I received an invitation from Captain Adams to join him at the club for coffee. Joseph Morrison and Daniel Goldworth are going to be attending, too." His voice was eager, but Edward studied his mother carefully, waiting for some sign of disapproval.

Her eyes stayed fixed on his collar, patting the finished knot once before motioning to Edward that he might stand. He got to his feet in one swift motion, though he didn't move from his place in front of her. "You'd like me not to go, wouldn't you." It wasn't a question, and they both knew it. Elizabeth sighed and looked up at her son, silhouetted by the glow of the firelight.

"I just don't think that you need to be worrying about military concerns." It was his turn to smile indulgently, and Edward looked down at his mother, his expression gentle.

"And _I _think that there is no reason whatsoever for you to worry about me. I'll be fine- I can take care of myself. Besides, the country _needs _me. There are thousands of men fighting every day- fighting for what's right."

Still unconvinced, Elizabeth looked down, toying with the leather-bound volume still lying on her knee. "Perhaps that's true- it doesn't mean I'll cease caring about what happens to you. I don't- I don't think I could bear losing you."

Edward chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to her silky cheek. "Don't be so melodramatic, Mother." Straightening, he laughed again upon noticing the worn book in her hands. "Are you really reading that book again? I should think you'd have half the text memorized by now, as many times as you've read it." She merely laughed at her son, holding the beloved book close.

"If you spent less time with your precious instrument, perhaps you'd better understand the joys of literature." Her son grinned, smile crooked and lighthearted.

"The joys of literature, or the thrill of scandal? Mr. Wilde wasn't exactly known for the most upstanding of morals, as I'm sure you're aware."

Elizabeth flushed, looking at her son with a scolding eye. "Just because a book is misunderstood doesn't mean it's of lesser quality. This is a story of beauty, of sin, of _punishment. _There is so much to be found in such a story."

His face was somber now, green eyes deep and cool. "A story of sin without repentance? Without grace? And you enjoy such a thing?" She nodded.

"After all, you don't know that he was unforgiven. He may have yet received God's grace." Edward studied her carefully, his eyes capturing everything about her from the twist of her white hands to the fathoms in her eyes.

Finally, he let out a deep breath, smiling slightly. "You're too much of an optimist, Mother." He walked out towards the door, turning one last time towards her. She noted the high colour in his cheeks, but said nothing- he was only a boy, after all, and it was perhaps nothing. The door made a loud click behind him when it swung shut, and she laughed at herself for being startled.

Turning away from the door and back to the fireplace, Elizabeth drew her skirts closer around her, considering the book in her hands for a long moment. Suddenly displeased with the story it contained, she flung it to rest on a nearby table, turning her eyes away. A draft blew through the room, and she shivered, the chill tripping down her spine.


End file.
